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THE 



PRIEST OF VENUS; 



A POEM 



IN THREE CANTOS. 





WASHINGTON: 
T. BARNARD, PRINTER. 

1845. 






^Vt^ 



out 

7 S '06 



THE 



PRIEST OF VENUS 



CANTO FIRST 



Bay of Pirteus ! What a lovely sight 
The broad blue siiiface of thy waters show ; 
Reflecting from their bosom, sparkling bright, 
The blazing wreath'd Apollo's radiant glow, 
Who, as his coursers mount to mid- heaven slow, 
Pours down the golden day, in gorgeous beam. 
Upon the blooming earth outspread below ; 
Whilst all the distant waving tree-tops seem 
Like to the bowers of the Elysian fields to gleam. 

II. 

Still and unmoved thy tranquil waters rest ; 
(Calm as a new-born infant's peaceful sleep. 
When slumb'iing at the smiling mother's breast,) 
No rippling breezes o'er them murmuring creep; 
No raging tempests in their fury sweep. 
And dash the billows with tremendous wrath 
Until they roll fierce waves on ocean deep, 
And threaten e'en with rage increased, to scathe 
The azure dome remote, where lies Apollo's path. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



III. 

Near to the briny waste an outstretched plain, 
Mark'd here and there with clust'ring hamlets, lies ; 
And wide dispread the yellow fields of grain, 
With mantling vines in purple harvest rise ; 
Here glowing fruit beneath the green leaves' guise 
Enshrouded darkly from the mid-day heat, 
Luxurious gr; w, and glad the admiring eyes 
With colors ncli ; a lovely ripen'd treat 
The ready gaze of neighb'ring cottager to greet. 

IV. 

Beyond were pleasant cots thus intervene, 
That to the mind the dreams of youth recall, 
Proud Athens bursts sublimely on the scene 
Browing yon beetling cliff with lofty wall : 
Rear'd here and there some column tow'ring tall 
Shoots up to heav'n ; whilst at its feet are spread 
The glittering palace and the marble hall. 
And altars, where the purpling blood is shed 
Of victims to the solemn sacrifices led. 



Minerva's fav'rite city, lol her shrine 
Yon rocky steep's abrupt ascent doth crown, 
And shows its pillars in a snowy line : 
Surrounding it the massive ramparts frown, 
Far from above, defiance on the town 
Which lies reposing at its base display'd, 
With intemiingled waving groves bestrown, 
Whose leafy boughs afford a cooling shade 
For academic scholar, and love stricken maid. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 5 



VI. 

But why should thus the humble bard essay 
To paint the gorgeous city in his song ? 
Why needs describe the grandeur in his lay, 
The temples and the edifices strong, 
Which to the Attic capital belong? 
Why all the works of art sublime, which awe 
To reverence profound the giddy throng. 
Who oft about the sacred altars draw. 
At times appointed, by their deities' wise law? 

VII. 

Midst all the maids, on whom the genial sun 
Of fam'd Athena shines, fair Leda's name 
Stands in the ranks of beauty first ; not one 
Of them o'er her a preference can claim 
For elegance of features or of frame ; 
For eyes which sparkle with a purer light 
Or breathe the essence of a chaster flame : 
In short the goddess doth in her unite 
Those charms that captivate the bosom with delight. 

VIII. 

Sisters she has, and now beneath the roof 
Of their paternal dome the fair ones wait, 
And ply the sounding shuttle through the woof 
With gentle cai'e and industry to mate. 
Thus as the passing time they dedicate, 
Amanthee, eldest of the smiling band. 
Stops, for awhile, her fingers' rapid rate. 
And loosing in her hand the silken strand 
Accosts the industrious group in accents bland. 



6 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



IX. 



a 



Fair sisters, I have heard a strange report, 
Which fame, the man5'-tongiiecl, hath round dispread ; 
How that the heralds from the Great King's court. 
Who came to make demand, as it is said. 
Of earth and Avater from our State, were led 
Away by the enraged crowd, and thrown 
Into a neighboiing well, and thence were bid 
With voice insulting, and with mockery's tone 
To take and bear the symbols to their master's throne." 



But scarce the final words fall on the ears 
Of the attentive listeners, before 
They hear tlie sound of martial step which nears, 
Resounding through the ample corridor ; 
Soon the brass hinges of the massive door 
Creak, and admit into the splendid room 
Young Eurytas, the brave, who tramps the floor 
Of solid stone, decked in his war costume. 
The glittering armor, with the helm and waving plume. 

XI. 

" Welcome, thrice welcome ! Eurytas," out cry 
All the delighted maids ; then eager throng 
Around the youth, to gratulafe him nigh 
Upon his safe return from voyages long, 
The stormy seas and dangerous shores among. 
All seem enraptur'd more than Leda, who. 
Although possessed of his affections strong 
Conceals her gladness from the common view, 
But loves him not the less in adoration trae. 



THE PRIEST OP VENUS. 



XII. 

Soon, as their fond congratulation 's o'er, 
Straight, for his ease, a rich worked couch they bear, 
And place it out upon the sounding floor ; 
Next, pressing in some needed task to share, 
They take his arms and casque with ready care, 
And lay them near his seat ; this done, anew 
With gladden'd hearts they blithsomely prepare 
The glossy thread, and then their work pursue. 
Running the silken strand the scarlet web-cloth through. 

XIII. 

The ready servants with oflicious haste 
Bring sparkling flagons of the ruddy wine 
And range them round with fiuit that please the taste ; 
The purple clusters of the leafy vine, 
In fine wrought golden plates profusely shine, 
And with the glowing fruitage lying near, 
Which, lately pluck'd, the ebon table line, 
Invite to feast and e'en so grateful are 
That Jove, the thundering god, might feed upon such fare. 

XIV. 

Now Eurytas prepares himself to eat 
The fragrant produce which the board doth grace : — 
When satiate of the rich and bounteous treat, 
He pours the glist'ning vine-juice out apace 
In golden goblets that the maids did place 
In order by ; the bowl then taking up, 
" To thee," he said, "sweet maid with blushing face, 

The purple nect'rous winedrop now I sup: 
To thee, fair Leda, now I drain the bubbling cup." 



8 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



XV. 

The conscious maiden gave th' approving smile, 
Her tender cheeks suffused with roseate hue, 
Caused by her blood which, rushing fast the while 
Up from her beating heart the soft flesh through, 
In the empurpled vein its ruddy current drew : 
Her face was tinged with a luxurious flush ; 
Like blooming roses wet by morning dew, 
Wild waving 'mid the foliage of the bush 
Shed on the drop-bespangled leaves their lovely blush, 

XVI. ^ 

The food removed, Antheanow doth speak : 

(The second sister of the smiling four) 
" Good Euiytas, to us recital make 

Of all thy wanderings since thou left'st the shore 

Of Attica; when hence thy vessel bore 

Thee far away upon the distant main, 

To roam the vast extent of waters o'er ; 

Until thou reach'st, with thy accompanyingtrain. 
Saved by some god's auspicious care, this port again." 

XVII. 

" When first, " he said " we left, borne by the gale 
Which o'er the rippled wave propitious blew. 
We spread the rustling sheet, and on did sail 
Across old Neptune's wide domain of blue ; 
Swiftly we plough'd the frothy waters through, 
Our course directed to Hesperia's strand ; — 
Whilst thus we steered Apollo's coursers drew. 
Upon their downward course, unto the land, 
And sunk where western ocean beats the yellow sand. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 9 



XVIII. 

" Night cast her ebon mantle o'er the earth, 
And gloomed the ling'ring flushes of the day, 
When high fair Phoebe silently peered forth 
And mounted in the heavens, as to survey 
The spacious world which far beneath her lay ; 
Whilst all the starry diamonds of the night 
Pav'd vv^ith their lamps the broad etherial way, 
And shed their feeble share of twinkling light, 

To paint the stilly scene with colors yet more bright. 

XIX. 

" Thus was the tide ; the favoring zephyr breath'd, 
And still our vessel whirled aside the foam, 
Until the stars the hour of midnight wreath'd, 
When sudden furious Boreas did come, 
And rushing roughly from his northern home 
Roar'd o'er the main ; on high its billows cast, 
Upheav'd the pitchy clouds in heaven's dark dome; 
While hideously howl'd his dreadful blast. 

Convolving to the sky the liquid mountains vast. 

XX. 

" Hoarse thunders in the realms of ether broke 
With formidable crash, whose horrid sound 
Astonish'd earth to its foundation shook ; 
Whilst ocean deep enclosed within his bound 
Raged all his rocky barriers around : 
Jove's fiery bolts flash 'd from his palace, high 
Where sable clouds in gloomy horror frown'd, 
And fiercely shooting through the darken'd sky, 

Lit with a momentary glare, the blackness nigh. 
2 



10 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



XXI. 

" We clew'd our sails more tightly to the yard, 
If that, perchance, we might the safer keep 
From the tremendous tempest- wind which warr'd 
Jn angry bellowings, with the troubled deep. — 
Up to the stars our ship did rising leap 
Until it seemed to reach the cloudy band, 
Then, down descending, 'twixt the waves did sweep 
Amid the boiling depths, where ocean's sand, 

Dug from its very bed, rear'd up a mountain land. 

XXII. 

" The mad'ning waters dashing 'gainst our prow 
Hurl'd up the spray aloft in wreaths like snow, 
And, rushing o'er the deck from stern to bow, 
The sturdy helmsman from his seat did throw 
Headlong into the yawning gulph below ; 
Borne off, with all that else was near, he cried 
For aidance, but the wild wind's fearful blow 
Roll'd o'er his head the deep and darksome tide, 

And on our listening ears his struggling accents died. 

XXIII. 

" I instant seized the helm, and steered her on 
Before the gale ; but not the pole-star's light 
Down through the thick enshrouding darkness shone ; 
Not any sparkling guardian of the night 
Was seen, by which to shape our course aright 
Far o'er the briny waste's unfathom'd way ; 
But glooming mists lowr'd fearful on the sight 
And ruled superior with o'er-awing sway. 
Nor let the smallest planet glint its twinkling ray. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 11 



XXIV. 

" Thus pass'd the time, until the hour came round 
When soft Aurora from her orient bed 
Leaps forth, exuhingly, with ready bound, 
And, mounting in her chariot blushing red, 
Doth far upon the azure arch dispread 
The rosy tints of dew-bespangled mom ; 
And, ere Sol clasps his beams about his head. 
Doth with her merry train the earth adorn, 

Breathing the perfumed zephyrs o'er the flowery lawn. 

XXV. 

" Day came without a day; Apollo's beam. 
Which fires the lofty realm of upper space. 
Ne'er on the troubled water's breast did gleam : 
Nor, blazing forth sublimely in his race. 
Did he diffuse the lustre of his face 
Upon our storm-toss'd ship from early rise 
Of dawning's peep, until his steeds did pace 
The downward course, and all the western skies 

Were tinged with gracile Iris's vari-color'd dyes. 

XXVI. 

" Six suns had marked the circling course of time, 
And e'en the moon as oft succeeded too. 
When o'er the distant seas some rocks sublime, — 
As the seventh morn distill'd the gentle dcAv, 
And beetling cliffs rose upward to the view. 
With joy the sailors hailed the welcome land, 
And whilst the breeze near lulled to quiet blew. 
With readiness each bending oar they raann'd. 
And sweeping o'er the waves soon reach'd the Afric strand. 



12 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 

XXVII. 

" We quickly leap'd upon the beach, and drew 
Our shattered vessel to the sloping shore ; 
Then some upon the verdant grassplots threw 
Their wearied limbs, whilst I with others bore 
Our oft-tried arms the country to explore. 
And hunt for game within a neighboring wood, 
Which frowning high the shady hill-tops o'er, 
At but short distance from the liquid flood, 
A covert thick for antler'd deer and panther stood. 

XXVIII. 

" Far had we not advanced within the shade 
Before a herd of wild stags met our view, 
Reclining softly in the bowery glade ; 
Q,uick each one then his twanging bowstring drew. 
Thence from the grasp relax'd the arrow flew. 
And shrilly whistled through the yielding air. 
Pierc'd by the glittering barbs two deer we slew, 
And, taking them, we bore them oflE'to share 

Among our crew, fatigued with constant toil and care. 

XXIX. 

" Arriv'd, the smoking meal was soon prepared, 
And spread upon the verdant grass, each one, 
As pleas'd him, of the dainty viands shared. 
Then, after that our plain repast was done. 
We fill'd with water from the murmuring run 
Our urns, and mounting o'er the vessel's side 
Upheav'd on deck the weighty anchoring stone. 
Next, turning to Hesperia in pride, 

We sail'd with swelling canvass o'er the rippling tide." 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 1 



o 



XXX. 

" Soon as we traced our onward course, llie shade 
Of eve began to lower upon the sea ; 
And darkening night, with dusky pall array'd, 
Approaching mildly to resume her sway 
Enwrapt in gloom the feeble sign of day. 
Again in tm-n soft roseate morn appear'd, 
And blush'd beyond tlie eastern hills away, 
When Phoebus o'er yon far horizon rear'd 

His blazing orb, and quick the mists of dawning clear'd. 

XXXI. 

" On the third day we near'd our destin'd port, 
And soon did in the peaceful haven ride : 
Then as the business of our voyage was short 
We spread, to catch each breeze, our canvass wide, 
And shooting out upon the rolling tide, 
Steer'd on our homeward course, and once again 
(Through Father Neptune's favoring aid) descried 
Our own loved country o'er the briny main ; 

And here am I, safe kept from dangers treach'rous train. 

XXXII. 

" Yet now I may expect no long repose. 
For but this morn when near the Parthenon, 
Passing along the street I Icarn'd from those, 
Conversant with the facts, that very soon 
A vast barbaric host would land upon 
Our shores ; on which account our gen'rals do 
The warlike preparations hurry on, 
And rouse our vet'rans all the country through 

To arm, and ready stand to battle foes anew. 



14 THE PRIEST OP VENUS. 



XXXIII. 

" But now, as mid-day turns, I must away 
And to Miltiades our chief repair, 
Since he desir'd that I would call to day 
And aid the war's arrangement to prepare : 
Yet, ere I take my leave, my Leda fair, 
May I request thee, lovely blushing flower. 
When evening zephyrs wanton with the air. 
And gently round us trembling night-shades lower, 

To meet thy lover at our own delightful bower? " 

XXXIV. 

Leda, young maiden, gives the wish'd reply, 
Whilst to her cheek life's purpling current flows. 
Which, like as heaven when ruddy morn draws nigh, 
Appears the beauteous color of the rose. 
And sprinkled with that radiant lustre glows. 
Now Eurytas his armor doth assume ; 
The scarlet mantle o'er his shoulder throws, 
And, glitt'ring brightly in his war costume, 
Nods to the graceful group, and leaves the marble room. 



CANTO II. 



I. 

Apart from all the city's noise, a grove 
Of wide-spread foliage yields a cool retreat 
(Sacred to Venus and the god of Love) 
Prom mid-day's blazing rays and scorching heat. 
Here wreathing laurels with the orange sweet 
Entwine their tender boughs, and interlace 
Their verdant leaves ; dark curling round their feet^ 
Flexible vines, far shadowing oak-trees grace, 
And bind the stubborn trunks close knit in their embrace, 

11. 

The glowing pomegi'anatc with rich perfume 
Hangs pendant down its fragile stems between ; — 
And shining brightly through soft waving gloom, 
Encircl'd round with tender leaves of green, 
The luscious lemon's golden rind is seen : 
Flourishing olives deck'd in vernal hue, 
Lend living beauty to the woodland scene, 
And piercing with their tops the covert through, 
Shoot up slight branching honors e'en to ether blue. 



16 THE PRIEST OP VENUS. 



Ill, 



Amid its banks where lovely flow'rets blow, 
And purple Hyacintliine blossoms beam, 
Meandering in its gentle course doth flow. 
With murmuring sound, a cool and limpid stream, 
And onward rippling steals with silv'ry gleam : 
Its water bubbling o'er the pebbly bed 
Like Syrens' voices soothe the mind to dream, 
Whilst on its curving slopes the moss, disprcad 
With Flora's tinted care, sweet flagrance round doth shed. 



IV. 



And near the rill which winds amidst the gloom, 
In all its picturesque and native grace, 
A bower o'erspread with most enchanting bloom. 
Its pleasant boughs and leaves doth interlace ; 
Seen here and there, the creeping woodbines trace 
Their curving arms in courses serpentine ; 
Yet training till their tendrils young embrace 
Each tiny stem on which may aught entwine. 
They high above the top their verdant network join. 



In vain the bard €nraptur'd may essay 
To paint the lovliness of such a scene ; 
For lifeless words can scarcely half convey 
Of what the ravish'd soul would speak. I ween 
No mortal hand can pencil the serene 
Tranquility of nature's calm repose, 
When round us softly steal the shades of e'en, 
And Vesper gently through the gloaming glows, 
To gild the peaceful slumbering of daylight's close. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



17 



VI. 



Who can describe the mighty majesty 
In which night's hour of beauty is array'd ; 
When miirrauring zephyrs creeping o'er the lea, 
And dancing elvelike on the mossy glade, 
Disport among each wold's aye trembling shade ? 
Sweet bower of love ! ah ! who may doubt the tale 
Thy charming umbrage was for trystings made ? 
Even as the violet in some lonely vale, 
Thou easiest odours sweet upon the passing gale. 



VII. 



No harpy-cry of thick-plnm'd owl is heard 
Amid the foliage of the olive tree ; 
Nor rustling pinion of a startled bird 
Breaks harshly on the dull serenity ; 
But Phoebe sheds, in fair virginity, 
Down from high lieav'n her silv'ry flood of light ; 
Whilst glimmering planets o'er the azure sea 
Their lustrous rays in brilliancy unite, 
And rolling onward sparkle tremulously bright. 



VIII. 



But see ! along yon winding path which leads 
Out from the inmost grove, with gentle pace 
That young Athenian maiden Leda treads ; 
And, with the smile of Hebe on her face, 
Advances to the oft frequented place; 
There, where she hopes h,er Eurytas to meet. 
And, longing for his exquisite embrace. 
Soon as its bow'ry shade her eyes doth greet. 
More quickly on the green turf moves her sylph-like feet. 
3 



18 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



IX. 



Now reaching it she timid looks within. 
But no fond lover glads her anxious view : 
No heedless tramp has crush'd the stemlet thin 
Of the wild lily bush which widely threw 
Athwart her course it's flow'rs of purest hue. 
Now Leda, unresolv'd of his delay, 
A moment musing pauses, then anew 
Her former steps retraces, that she may 
Meet Eurytas, perchance, approaching by the way. 



X. 



Now near this path (with flow'rets overgrown 
Which leads with easy curvings through the grove) 
High m a verdant opening, alone, 
A lofty statue of the queen of Love 
Gleams through close trees with light from heav'n above ; 
It casts a giant shadow far upon 
The mossy turf with amaranths interwove ; 
And round about its solid base bestrown, 
The creeping ivy trails against the marble stone. 



XI. 



Hither the lovely maid of Athens draws, 
Her bosom heaving with that one fond care. 
And now before the glitt'ring pile makes pause : — 
She gazes on the monumental fair, 
Wliose snowy brows are crown'd with curling hair, 
And looking still admiring on Uiat form. 
Breathes from her rosy lips the ardent prayer, 
That Venus may extend her guardian arm 
And safe protect herself and Eurytas from harm. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 19 



XII. 

But see I a figure from the dusky shade 
Advances slowly and with measur'd tread ; 
His noble figure is in robes array 'd, 
His ample brows are bound with ribbons red 
That make a glittering circlet round his head. 
With gi-aceful bend before her he appears ; 
She from him unexpected woidd have fled, 
But that, as closer yet his footstep nears, 
He bids her in persuasive tone release her fears. 



XIII. 



" Flee, flee not, Leda, loveliest rose of Greece, 
Nor tremble thus with nought to cause alarm ; 
Dread not the man intruding on thy peace, 
But listen to his words since none may harm : 
Oft have I gaz'd upon thy queen-like form, 
Majestic moving 'mid the virgin train, 
And looking felt my coursing heart's blood warm, 
Until that scarce my bosom could contain 

The blazing fire which fed upon my life amain. 

XIV. 

" Long hath this flame been raging in my breast, 
And often have I sad bewail'd the day 
I saw thy Naiad self ; but ill suppress'd 
The torch of love doth on my being prey. 
And slow consumes me to a shade away. 
Long have 1 vainly strove to keep conceal'd 
My secret pang (lohat can the smart allay?) 
But ah! alas! poor nature hath no shield 
Proof 'gainst the piercing dart of Cupid, — she must yield. 



20 THE PRIEST OP VENUS. 



XV. 

" But, since my suff'rings I cannot endure, 
Here have I sought for thee, sweet nymph, to night, 
And humbly ask that boon which will secure 
Thy ardent lover's bliss ; quickly requite 
His bosom's love, nor spurn him from thy sight ; 
Give him for aye to clasp thee to his heart, 
And kissing thee with rapturous delight, 
Command the darksome cares of life depart; 

For nought but joys divine could come where'er thou art. " 

XVI. 

"Ha! speak'st thou so, proud priest? (with low'ring frown 
Dark clouding o'er her brows fair Leda cries) 
For such I know thee by those bands which crown 
Thy bended head. Thought'st thou that cozening guise 
Could e'er deceive a maiden's ready eyes? 
Fly, fly thou hence, for guardian powers above. 
Who look upon this deed of foul emprise. 
Will shelter innocence and vestal love, 
And will in my behalf some powerful aidence move. " 

XVII. 

" Ah ! but I have thee, maiden, in my power, . 

And, if my proffer'd love thou'lt not receive 
I sweai (and should I fail may wolves devour 

My bloody corse, and none my exit grieve.) 

By all the gods which in yon regions live, 

And by the Styx which darkly flows beneath. 

This glitt'ring dagger shall thy bosom cleave, 

Then in my aching heart shall find a sheath, 

Since nought can end my tortures but oblivions death." 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 21 



XVIII. 

The trembling virgin shrieks and with her cry 
The waving woods full audibly resound ; 
Throughout the sleeping grove the echoes fly 
And wake the feathery slumberers around. 
The black plum'd raven startled by the sound, 
Sweeps on with flapping pinion o'er the path, 
And, wanging through the lower'd gloom profound, 
Screams out aloud with horror-rending breath 
His fearful note, like hideous yell of demon's wrath. 

XIX. 

Already high extended in mid-air 
The priest's bright poinard like a meteor streams ; 
His out-stretched hand retains the qui v 'ring fair, 
Whilst, like a basilisk's, his eye dark beams. 
Yet 'twere a fleeting moment and it seems 
The weapon's point will drink her freezing blood, 
But see ! what glist'ning sword descending gleams, 
And with a blow that may not be withstood, 
Hews from his clinching grasp that blade yet unimbued. 

XX. 

" Great Jove preserve from harm " pale Leda cries 
Whilst drooping to the turf she fainting falls, 
And on her tongue each quiv'ring accent dies : — 
But hark ! as fear all energy now palls, 
What w^ell-known voice her fleeting sense recalls ? 
Who breathing in alarm her own sweet name. 
Upon the Gods in heaven for vengeance calls. 
And clasping in his arms her shuddering frame, 

Watches the time when life its empire may reclaim ? 



22 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



XXI. 

Near by, the mantled priest with bleeding hand, 
Looks on the bending form with mute surprize, 
And motionless as marble statues stand 
Seems bound to earth. — Up Euiytas doth rise 
Soon as returning life fires Leda's eyes, 
And to her cheek e'en purpling streamlets flow, 
Then viewing where the unused weapon lies 
Bright glaring 'mid the blood-stain'd grass below, 
Accosts th' assassin while his breast with rage doth glow. 

XXII. 

" Foul fiend look not with such unmeaning stare 
Upon this scene; quick get thee hence away. 
Nor linger near my angry heat to dare 
Which scarcely now can brook the slightest sway ; 
Flee from my furious sight without delay : 
That sacred band hath prov'd thy surest guard, 
Else now, by Jove ! thy soul had fled for aye 
To meet in Stj^gian gloom its just reward. 

And leave thy gory corse to stain this holy sward. " 

XXIII. 

Waken'd as from the stupor of a dream 
Which bound his senses with controlling might, 
The fearful words to break the spell did seem 
Which erewhile clasp'd the priest in bondage tight ; 
Then as the view appears before his sight, 
A haughty smile upon his face doth play 
Whilst fury sparkles in his glances bright, 
And frowning like a demon on his prey, 
He cries with hellish sneer, " thou'lt rue this hour for aye. " 



THE PRIEST OP VEiXUS. 23 

XXIV. 

Quick disappearing" 'mid embow'ring- shade 
His hurrying figure vision doth ekide ; 
But yet upon the moonht turf his blade 
Remains, bespotted o'er with drops of blood. — 
When now no more his footstep shakes the Wood, 
Sad Eurytas, supporting Leda's form, 
Slow paces from the grove in pensive mood ; 
And grieving thinks that she (his heart's fond charm) 
Has by so small a chance escaped from deadly harm. 

XXV. 

J3ut who may tell what anguish rends that breast? — 
His mind, like to the tempest troubled deep. 
Cannot be calm'd into a sudden rest. 
For still (as dreams that steal upon our sleep) 
Desponding thoughts across his bosom creep. 
And darkly with their pall his peace enshroad. 
Like wintry storms which raving wildly heap 
In heav'n's blue vault above, a low'ring crowd 
Of glooming mists that Sol's irradiance becloud. 



CANTO III. 



As yet the bard hath sung but strains of peace, 
And of the gentle sovereignty of love ; 
Now for a time he must that theme release 
And teach to harsher notes his lyre to move. — 
How Grecia's sons their fierce invaders drove — 
Like trembling deers that panting in the chase 
Sweep fearful through the dense umbrageous grove — 
From Marathon's fam'd field in foul disgrace, 
Must be the glorious deeds his muse attempts to trace. 

II. 

Time has rolPd swifdy by; the hour hath come 
Wlien mild-eyed peace from Athens speeds afar, 
And martial clamour that before was dumb 
Falls on the startled ear with horrid jar. 
Infuriate Mars, drawn in his rattling car, 
Uprears his bloody banner flauntingly. 
And breathing forth the thunderblast of war, 
Bids steel-clad hosts rend with their battle cry 
The trembling air, and shake yon azure arching sky. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 25 



III. 

Already do barbaric myriads throng 
Upon the fertile sod of Grecia's lands; 
Her vales re-echo with the thund'ring song 
Peal'd from the lips of mighty Persian bands, 
Whose troops are countless as the ocean sands : 
Borne onward by the courser's bounding tread, 
Extended sabres gleaming in their hands, 
Rich armor'd horsemen o'er her fields bespread 
Advance with fiery pace, bespeaking tales of dread. 

IV. 

Already, lying in their conquering path, 
Euboea's isle in ruins is entomb'd ; 
Her smiling bowers subjected to their wrath 
Have felt the lot which falls upon the doom'd. — 
There on her soil where once a city bloom'd, 
Like a lone rose mid circling wreaths cf green, 
Eretria's lovely domes are darkly gloom'd, 
And nought but smould'ring ashes now are seen 
To point the spot where marble palaces have been. 

V. 

Wo, wo, to Greece ! hath not the Persian lord 
Mark'd her to feel his desolating power ? 
Fly not yon hosts obedient to his word, — 
Like to the darkling thunder-clouds that lower 
O'er jacent earth, and whelming torrents shower,- 
Crowding in desolation-bearing sway, 
Prepar'd to make the raging flames devour 
Her towers and temples rear'd in proud array ; 
Her captive children, too, to lead in chains away? 
4 



26 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



VI. 

Aye, in the pomp of his imperial might 
Darius inward said ; " thy hour hath come ; 
Tliy feeble sons shall quail before my sight, 
And see their country, e'en their own loved home, 
Fall ne'er to rise, for I have pass'd its doom. 
Thy vales which flourish now as fair as spring, 
Whelm'd by my blasting fury shall become 
A barren waste, o'er which the owl sliall wing 
His midnight course, and beasts their progeny will bring." 

VII. 

But, Greeks, will not some deity extend 
His aid to save thee from a fate accurs'd ? 
Will none of all the gods above defend 
Ye, who deserve of Terra's offspring first 
In safety's lap securely to be nursed ? 
What ! will that Jove 'whom you adore allow 
The gath'ring storm that near impends, to burst 
In darksome desolation o'er ye now. 
Nor e'en attempt to ward the overwhelming blow ? 

VIII. 

Will not that goddess, whose vast fane doth shine 
Upon the summit of yon. cliffy height. 
Afford support in such a case as thine ? 
No, no, fair Greece ! round clouds thy fated night. 
Ne'er more may freedom smile upon thee bright ; 
Thy strength unequal to the task must fail, 
And, ah ! when thou shalt feel the foeman's might. 
Thy weeping children will thy fall bewail, 
And curse the hour which saw the Persian king prevail. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 27 



IX. 

But do not Grecian breasts already warm 
With valour's conq'ring, never daunted fire ? 
Do not Athenian braves for battle arm, 
And fill'd with great Minerva's martial ire, 
Breathe 'gainst their country's foes destruction dire ? 
Ask yon arm'd vet'ran mark'd with glorious scars, 
Does not the flame each warrior's heart inspire ? — 
Methinks that sound which nature's calmness jars 
Foretells of bloody fields, the fierce delight of Mars. 

X. 

Behold the morning beams fall on the plain 
Of Marathon ; gleaming at distance, shine 
Innumera])le sails upon the main, 
Which darkly rolls its waves of purpling brine. 
Far as the eye can reach, the glitt'ring line 
Of Persian squadrons meets th' astonish'd view; 
And over vasty space their troops combine 
In mighty phalanx, while their costumes shew 
As rich and vari-color'd as the rainbow hue. 

XI. 

A motley mass ; here in his furry dress 
Parades the hunter from Caucassian land. 
Whose rugged face and sinewy limbs confess 
A reckless valour nothing may withstand. 
Here the plain husbandman whose looks more bland 
Proclaim less of ferocious temperament ; 
And near the shepherd once by zephyrs fann'd 
In southern clime, whose features softly blent, 
Avow a feeble spirit, not to warfare bent. 



28 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



XII. 

Far spreading ranks of neighing coursers champ 
Indignantly the bit, and proudly prance, 
Or grov/ing restless furiously stamp 
The trembling turf. High o'er vast squadrons dance 
Soft waving plumes, and flutt'ring banners glance 
Like cloth of gold beneath the sunbeam's ray : 
Before their van the princely chiefs advance 
Borne on fleet steeds with trappings glistening gay, 
And take of the embattled host a wide survey. 

XIII. 

Wake, Greece, awake ! th' invaders press thy soil, 
Their war-trump's breathing trembles on the air ; 
And lo ! the crowding myrmidons of spoil 
Spread their dense troops in fearful order there. 
Rear, Grecians, high those gorgeous banners rear 
On which are stamped the marks of hberty ; 
And, quickly to yon raarshall'd field repair 
With all your strength, your valiant chivalry, 
And hurl that mighty mass into yon turbid sea. 

XIV. 

Mark from afar what dusky clouds arise, 
And rolling upward hide the brilliant day ; 
What lance points sparkle through yon dunlikc guise 
Of floating dust, and catch the sunny ray. 
Some martial squadron's thickly form'd array 
Must be beneath that moving gloom conceal'd. 
Behold ! the breeze sweeps far the veil away. 
And now steel armor'd bands to view reveal'd, 
Proclaim Athenia's sons are hastening to the field. 



THE PRIEST OP VENUS. 29 

XV, 

Her warriors wide in glittering armor shine, 
And as upon the plain they thickly tread, 
The warning notes command to form the line, 
When soon the dauntless braves their ranks bespread. 
Upon the turf in order grim array'd 
Each hero waits impatiently for fight ; 
His brandish'd lance waves fiercely o'er his head, 
Whilst in his grasp the buckler blazes bright, 
Unbatter'd yet by foeman's blade, unfelt his might. 

XVI. 

My muse may not describe that fierce afTray, 
When Grecian valor bath'd in gory flood 
The vasty field of Marathon. That day 
Athenian battle blades were deep imbued 
With life's red currents, which profusely flow'd 
From Persian hearts ; for like a whirlwind swept 
The Greeks upon their front ; — distain'd with blood, 
O'erpowered thousands in that slumber slept, 
Which not the fearful martial din could wake, unwept. 

XVII. 

The fight is o'er ; upon that wide spread plain 
Apollo's radiant lustre low'ring streams, 
And far the billow of the briny main 
Beneath his glorious radiance sweetly gleams. 
The scene of mortal strife, lit by the beams 
Of closing day, reveals a horrid sight ; 
Bestrewn with ghastly corses o'er, it seems 
Lamenting for the misty veil of night 
To drop and hide its horrors from the blushing light. 



30 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 

XVIII. 

Night following, lets her gloomy curtain fall 
Upon reposing earth, and o'er the slain 
Bespreads its dusky cov'ring like a pall, 
Obscuring all that battle-field again. 
High in mid-heaven the silv'ry sparkling train 
In silence shine, and Phoebe's lucid sheen 
Descendeth softly on the silent plain, 
Where glittering hosts at morning's hour were seen 
Of whom were myriads laid in death's chill grasp ere e'en. 

XIX. 

Night flies, and now the eastern " rosy-fingered " morn 
Distills o'er Athen's domes her drops anew ; 
But ah ! what grieving train now moves forlorn, 
Brushing in gloomy pomp the spangling dew ? 
'Tis Leda's funeral ; aye, the ruddy hue 
Of life has fled her cheeks ; her brow 
Is pal'd by death ; those charming eyes of blue 
Will shine no more ; and ah ! that neck of snow. 
That form of sylphlike elegance, are livid now. 

XX. 

Fair, lovely, maid ! thy life hath been but brief, 
And short upon earth's blooming soil thy stay : 
Far from the sad'ning scenes of mortal grief 
Thy gladsome soul hath winged its happy way ; 
Thy spirit, bursting from its bonds of clay, 
Hath sped afar to the Elysian bowers, 
There to remain in happiness for aye, 
And, blooming sweet 'mid never fading flowers, 
Call not to recollection's view this world of ours. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



31 



XXI. 



But who may tell what sorrows, ceasing not, 
Thy own dear lover's tortur'd breast will rend. 
When he (alas ! unconscious of thy lot) 
Shall learn of thy untimely fated end ? 
Perhaps e'en now, when roseate morn doth blend 
Her purple tints, lone gazing on the skies, 
His bosom prayers to azure heaven ascend, 
(Like on the vesper air the perfumes rise) 
Whilst as a dove to thee his bosom-yearning hies. 



XXII, 



Still slowly on those mourners sadly move, 
And solemnly these funeral dirges sing : 

*' Ye maids of Athens your affection prove ; 
To beauteous Leda's burial hither bring 
The sweetest flowers which deck the lap of spring ; 
Ah ! bear ye hither wreaths of richest bloom. 
And cast their odours on the zephyr's wing ; 
Come, fair ones, now bewail the fairest's doom. 

And spread your votiv^e off'iing o'er her youthful tomb. 



XXIII. 



" Weep, weep her fall ; lament her early fate, 
And breathe soft matins to her peaceful shade ; 
Deplore her loss from morn till evening late ; 
Grieve for the flow'ret which so soon decay'd. 
Sad was that hour Aurora, soft array'd. 
Gazed on our sweetest Leda's blooming charms ; 
And sadder yet that hour she gently bade 
The lov'd one's spirit fly this world of harms, 

And clasped our blushing blossom in her rosy arms." 



32 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



XXIV. 

Thus they advance until is reach'd the tomb 
When lowly is depos'd her body there ; 
Bewailing all sweet Leda's early doom 
They closely gather round with tender care, 
And overspread her grave with chaplets fair. 
Pacing upon the sod with gentle tread, 
Their tresses loosely floating in the air, 
Sad they perform the rites above her head, 
And o'er that lonely resting place bright teardrops shed. 

XXV. 

The solemn ceremonials now are o'er — 
Back to their homes return the mourning train, 
And greatly they upon their way deplore 
The death of her they ne'er may see again. — 
And now Apollo glittereth amain 
In ether clear, and, as his coursers trace 
Their rapid way, those warriors on the plain 
Of Marathon arrange their ranks apace. 
And, on their homeward route, march o'er the level space. 

XXVI. 

Loud ring forth pasans on the startl'd air. 
And brightly in the sun their banners glance; 
High wave their tufted crests of flowing hair. 
And o'er war-batter'd helms superbly dance. 
Before the van, as onward they advance, 
Miltiades, the conqueror, proceeds; 
Near by his valiant gen'rals ride, while prance 
Restless beneath control their noble steeds. 
And cast the snowy foam like spray above their heads. 



THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 33 



XXVII. 

Brave Eurytas amid that dauntless band 
Shines Hke a god upon his courser fleet, 
Which trampling lightly o'er the yellow sand, 
Bends down the herbage wild beneath his feet. — 
Onward they march ; Athenia's temples meet 
As evening falls, their eager searching eyes, 
And as her massive walls their vision greet 
One mighty outburst of delight doth rise 
From all tliat phalanx great, and rattles through the skies. 

XXVIII. 

Tis night : within a richly furnish'd hall 
Sits Eurytas alone, before him spread 
A letter lies ; and as the light doth fall 
Upon its sheet from pendant lamp o'er head, 
In feeble characters there may be read 
Its contents brief : 'tis from the maid he lov'd 
Who ere her trembling spirit hence had fled, 
Her strong affection for himself approv'd 
By penning those fond words while yet life's pulses mov'd. 

XXIX. 

He gazes on the leaf with tear dimm'd eye, 

And cries : "ah, wretched me ! what sorrows lower 

Like Stygian clouds and darken o'er my sk)^ 
Some deity hath in a luckless hour 

Snatch'd from these circling anus my blooming flower ; 

Hath from my close embrace the fair one torn, 

And borne her off to the Elysian bower, 

Whilst I accurs'd, heart broken, and forlorn 

Am left though all my days the stroke of fate to mourn." 

5 



34 THE PRIEST OF VEXUS. 



XXX. 

" Ah ! why did not the Persian blade destroy 
This miserable life in mortal fight ? — 
Existence hence I never may enjoy, 
For who that e'er have known such fearful blight, " 
Could see aught here to please them or delight? — 
But see ! what saith her note: ' some dreadful bane 
Preys on my vitals with destructive might ; 
My chilling blood creeps slowly through its vein ; 
My shuddering frame is tortur'd with demoniac pain.' 

XXXI. ' 

" Twas poison ! aye, deep malison of heaven 
Upon the fiend who did that act attend : 
May his curs'd breast by black remorse be riven. 
And may the hissing furies fiercely bend 
Their anger on him ; may they always rend 
His aching heart with ever during harms, 
And not a deity above extend 
To him protection, — none outstretch their arms 

To save while life's inspiring flood his bosom warms.''— 

XXXII. 

With this he rouses up ; girds on his blade 
Which well had serv'd him in the former fray 
Hastes from the house, and quickly through the shade 
Of night proceeds, by unfrequented way 
Where scarce a lonely traveller might stray. 
On he advances grieving o'er his lot, 
While keenest anguish on his peace doth prey. 
Nor slacketh pace ; aside turneth he not 
Until he stands within the grave-yard's dreary spot. 



THE PRIEST OF V^ENUS. 



XXXIII. 



One lovely urn of sculptur'd marble bright 
Points his enquiring- vision to her tomb; 
And glowing softly of unstained white 
Seems like a lily in its early bloom. — 
Light waving through the night's enshrouding gloom 
The hyacinthine blossoms gently bend, 
And wide diffuse their odorous perfume 
Upon the breeze, which doth in silence wend 
Its whisp'ring course where weeping C3^press branches blend. 

XXXIV. 

He draws him near, and on the snowy vase 
Beholds the lost one's name ; beneath is traced: 

" Fair favorite of heaven to their embrace 
Fond deities have wooed thy spirit chaste 
And borne thee hence the cloyless sweets to taste 
Which aye attend on the immortal state. " 
He reads the lines, while tear by teardrop chas'd 
Flows frequent from his eyes, which but of late 

Have learn'd to ope their fountains to the call of fate. 

XXXV. 

There sits he down upon the maible seat, 
And grieving fortune's blow with harrowing moan, 
Laments his wretchedness as now complete : — 
The past hath been — now 'tis forever gone ; 
The present is — its gloomy hour alone 
Hath sorrows which embitter life with gall ; 
The future — ah ! what troubles yet unknown 
May be conceal'd beneath its cheerless pall, 
Which wait but time with their resistless shock to fall. 



36 THE PRIEST OF VENUS. 



XXXVI. 

Thus muses he ; a close rob'd figure nears, 
And by the moonbeam's feeble ?oftened glow, 
Which scarcely through the floating cloudlets peers, 
He views the foul producer of his woe 
Approach the sacred spot with footseps slow. 
With rage infuriate, from the pendant sheath 
His sword he diaws, preparing with his foe 
To fight, resolv'd to conquer or beneath 
The piercing blade to fall and yield but with his breath. 

XXXVII. 

On rushes Eurytas, but quick as thought 
His enemy confronts with rapier high, 
Now clash their brands to nearer action brought, 
And with each stroke the lightning sparkles fly 
Like meteors shooting swiftly through the sky. — 
But Eurytas hath giv'n the fatal thrust. 
And mark what follows ; list ! that piercing cry ; 
His bleeding foeman falls and bites the dust; — 
Sure heaven hath aim'd tliat blow for vengeance and the just. 

XXXVIII. 

" Die miscreant, die, and down to deepest hell 
Thy dark stain'd spirit speed its flight accurs'd ; 
There ever in the midst of torments dwell. 
And share the lot of damned shades the worst. 
Freely I yield this breath, since now my thirst 
For fell revenge hath well been satisfied : — 
Receive my soul who took fair Leda first. " 
He said, then to his breast the sword applied, 

And bath'd it deeply in his own heart's gushing tide. 



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